Never Trust a Guy Without Tattoos — Mild mannered journalist Darren Garnick channels his inner rock star with Steel Panther.

OK, check out the guy NOT wearing spandex in this backstage rock star pose above. What’s his deal? Is he an accountant?  An insurance adjuster?  A data processing clerk?

Hey, I have no pretensions of being or acting like a rock star — and besides seeing one Motley Crue concert in the 1980s (and owning their album, Shout at the Devil), I am hardly a heavy metal guy.  But I thoroughly enjoyed my “Spinal Tap”-like interview with Steel Panther last night at the Hampton Beach Casino Ballroom in New Hampshire.

Steel Panther is an over-the-top satirical band simultaneously making fun of and paying homage to the pretty-boy 1980s hair metal bands — caring as much about spandex and hair spray as their lyrics. Their bass player, Lexxi Foxx, spends his entire time on stage primping in the mirror with one hand while playing his instrument with the other.

I can’t share my story angle or media outlet yet. But journalism has nothing to do with my favorite moment of the evening: Bonding with a fellow Darren.

Heavy metal icons Steel Panther ham it up for a soon-to-be announced journalism project I’m working on with concert photographer Ilya Mirman. From left to right, Lexxi Foxx (bass), Satchel (guitar), Michael Starr (lead vocals) and Stix Zadinia (drums).

The performer playing Stix, the drummer, is named Darren in “real life.” After introducing myself, I asked him what I ask every Darren I meet:  “Do you also hear stupid ‘Bewitched’ jokes, getting called Derwood* by people who think you are hearing their clever line for the first time?”

The band recoiled in unison when they heard the question. They are always in character while wearing the bandannas and wigs (Starr’s hair is real) and this was tantamount to accusing professional wrestlers of faking it.  WHOA! WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY “REAL LIFE?”

Nevertheless, Darren/Stix broke through the Fourth Wall.

Yeah, he gets called Derwood. All the time. And his fellow bandmates plead guilty as charged. Who says no one watches Bewitched anymore?

Darren/Stix asked me the logical follow-up question: How do I spell Darren?  When I confirmed the traditional D-A-R-R-E-N version, he nodded in approval. It was further validation of what we all know is true: Darens, Darins, Darrins, Darryns and Daryns are all heretics.

But they still probably all hear Bewitched jokes.

Anyone else have a name that evokes the same obscure pop culture reference every time you meet someone new?

(Special thanks to Mirman Photography for its kickass coverage of Steel Panther’s historic first visit to New Hampshire).

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*THE DERWOOD “JOKE” FROM BEWITCHED EXPLAINED

For a little more intellectual street cred, I defer to the essay “The Escapist 1960s Sitcom Feminism of Bewitched” on the Women’s History About.com page. Yes, the topic is that important:

“The fanciful 1960s sitcom Bewitched starred Elizabeth Montgomery as Samantha Stephens, a witch married to a mortal husband. The underlying feminism of Bewitched revealed a “typical housewife” who is actually more powerful than her husband. Samantha used her witchcraft powers to solve all sorts of problems, despite having promised her husband, Darrin, that she would no longer practice magic.

… (In a typical episode), dutiful Darrin kissed supportive Samantha goodbye and trotted off to his respected advertising agency job, leaving her in their lovely middle-class home. He was never gone long before some chain of events was set in motion that ended up with Samantha needing to use her powers to end the predicament.

Often the instigator was Samantha’s mother Endora, played by Agnes Moorehead, who famously called Darrin “Derwood” and never understood what Samantha saw either in him or in normal mortal life. Why, Endora asked, would Samantha suppress her witchcraft when she could enjoy being supernatural, powerful and immortal?”

In Darrin’s honor, I need to make a pilgrimage to the Elizabeth Montgomery Bewitched statue in Salem, Massachusetts. Had he spelled his name D-A-R-R-E-N, he likely would not have been so henpecked.

Walmart and AirWick have brought the sensations of hiking to your bathroom. (Double click to enlarge image).

Time to take the “natural” out of nature hikes.

This ad just popped up in my email inbox this morning and the marketing concept blows me away. Artificial fragrances to replicate the fresh air scents of America’s National Parks.  Depending on what time of year you go, and which parking lot you’re stuck in, they should add “RV Exhaust” to their choice of flavors.

No more generic pine tree scents. Your smelly gym locker room can now be a place to meditate and marvel at God’s miracles.

New Hampshire Magazine’s Photoshop guy is phenomenal. Yes, I did go to Yankee Stadium for this story, but the yoga happened at their Manchester newsroom. That’s a Kevin Youkilis jersey in case you were curious. (Double click to read story)

It’s Opening Day: Yankees vs. Red Sox — and let the gloating begin!

Based on the injuries the Yanks are battling with A-Rod, Jeter and Texiera, there’s a fair chance that Boston and New York will be fighting each other to stay out of last place this year.

Sure, celebrating would be premature at this point, but fans in Baltimore, Toronto and Tampa Bay have to like their chances in the AL East where the Sox and Yanks used to trade off the division title and the Wild Card every season.

Before the Sox took their depressing nose dive, I surprised my son with a Yankee Stadium trip to see the home team when Sox-Yanks tickets at Fenway were simply unaffordable. To my surprise, I liked many of the people sitting around me despite my lifetime of regarding Yankees fans as arrogant, obnoxious punks. You can read my humble attempt at a Nobel Peace Price nomination in the April issue of New Hampshire Magazine, on newsstands now.

I love this cover, especially since New Hampshire was recently ranked as the Least Religious State in America by the Pew Research Center. The Red Sox is a more popular religion around here than Christianity, Judaism, Islam and Hinduism combined.

My first cover story for New Hampshire Magazine explores the die-hard subculture of NH Red Sox fans — and their fragile psychology after one of the most disappointing seasons in Sox history. (Cover design by J Porter)

We left no New Hampshire baseball angle unexplored, even tracking down Carlton Fisk’s 1963 high school yearbook. He’s the guy holding the trophy on the far right.

What if Carlton Fisk had decided to pursue pro basketball instead of pro baseball?

You can read the full story here.

Literary Overdose:  Sox Dominance on my Bookshelves.

Based on my stockpile of baseball books, my home could be turned into the Red Sox Library of Congress. A quick snapshot of the Boston volumes on my shelves:

* Idiot by Johnny Damon.
* Deep Drive by Mike Lowell with Rob Bradford.
* Big Papi by David Ortiz with Tony Massarotti.
* Now I Can Die in Peace by Bill Simmons.
* Why Not Us? by Leigh Montville.
* Ted Williams by Leigh Montville.
* Watching Baseball by Jerry Remy.
* Have Globe, Will Travel by Bill Lee and Richard Lally.
* Red Sox Where Have You Gone?  by Steve Buckley.

That doesn’t even count all my other baseball books like Designated Hebrew by Ron Blomberg and Dan Schlossberg, and Big Hair & Plastic Grass by Dan Epstein. If unauthorized autobiographies for Orlando Cabrera, Randy Kutcher and Jack Brohammer ever come out, you can be sure I will be first at the book signings.

How many books about the Terry Francona Red Sox can one guy really read? I leaped on the ex-manager’s memoir as soon as it came out because I felt he was unceremoniously treated like crap and scapegoated on his way out of Boston. I was thrilled when I saw this billboard in Kenmore Square, only a few steps away from the Popeye’s Chicken restaurant favored by Jon Lester, Josh Beckett and John Lackey:

Ballsy Billboard for Francona’s Revenge

Yet, although I’ve always respected Terry Francona, he’s always bored me. Over the years, his press conference answers were straight out of the Bull Durham Cliche School and he cared more about keeping peace in the clubhouse than speaking his mind.  It’s definitely worth the $17 — less than a Fenway bleacher seat — to “listen” to him let loose on his unappreciative bosses and the occasional player (read: MANNY) who treated him like crap.

As is often the case, the big revelations in the book were leaked before the publicity tour, but I found the minutia fascinating. A few favorite snippets:

1. At the 2007 World Series, security at the Colorado Rockies park refused to believe that diminutive Dustin Pedroia was a Major League ballplayer:

Page 193 (Click to enlarge)

2. Pete Rose was a Mean Boss:

Page 243 (Click to enlarge)

3. A Burned Down Bridge Can’t Be Burned Any Further:

Page 342 (Click to enlarge)

4. You Never Know What You’ll Overhear in the Verizon Wireless Store: 

Page 333 (Click to enlarge)

My first cover story for New Hampshire Magazine explores the die-hard subculture of Red Sox fans in the Granite State — and their state of mind after one of the worst seasons in Sox history. (Cover design by J Porter)

I’m absolutely thrilled with how this story came out and can’t wait for it to hit the newsstands on April 1.

From the inner thoughts of former Red Sox catcher Gary Allenson, now the manager of the New Hampshire Fisher Cats, to snapshots from Carlton Fisk’s high school yearbook, you won’t want to miss this comprehensive analysis of the Granite State’s contributions to Red Sox culture.

And if you care about doctors, medicine and that kind of stuff, there’s some additional non-baseball information, too.

Props to New Hampshire Magazine‘s new art director, J Porter, for this phenomenal cover.

(The research for this story was even more fun than my research on the Red Sox – Yankees T-Shirt Wars).

Better Than the World Series Trophies — Youk and Manny, aka Darren Garnick and Chris Hegarty, fantasize about winning the coveted Golden Shopping Cart at the Boston Urban Iditarod. (Full Disclosure: They did not win).

This was the first race EVER in which I stopped in the middle for a beer, burger and fries (at Jerry Remy’s Sports Bar).

But that was a mandatory component of the Boston Urban Iditarod, a 5K charity “dogsled” race in which a shopping cart is the city sled and people are the dogs. The wacky event last weekend was also part pub crawl, part talent show and part parade float/ costume contest. There were 102 teams and 600 runners — only one of whom was wearing a Manny Ramirez wig (my childhood friend Chris Hegarty). More than 6,000 pounds of canned goods were collected for the Boston Medical Center Food Pantry.

Ghosts of Red Sox Past: Dice-K, Manny, Nomar and Youk Together Again!

Our team theme was “Ghosts of Red Sox Past,” which involved a tribute to Red Sox players who were once heroes but later kicked out of town on their asses. A shopping bag ghost — looking like the Unknown Comic from The Gong Show — was our cart figurehead. Decorations also included Whiffle Bats, Whiffle Balls and a T-Ball glove zip-tied to the cart.

In the creativity department, we fell smack in the middle of the pack. Beneath us on the costume food chain were people who just slapped on Scooby Doo costumes from the party store and lots of generic pirates. More dedicated efforts included a UFO Roswell Alien gang, a Swan Lake ballet cart made from toilet paper, a group of exhibitionist gladiators wearing suits of armor made from newspaper (in 40 degree weather), and a funky papier mache dragon.

The Sox thing was an achievable theme at the last minute — and I thought, extremely relevant since the race began at Fenway Park. It was fun to yell “NO-MAH!” at my friend George’s Nomar Garciaparra jersey and to hear random motorists shout “YOOOUUUKKKKK!” at my Kevin Youkilis jersey, purchased at the last minute for a New Hampshire Magazine story about Red Sox fans.

All Five Sox “Ghosts” — Marty Karlon, Kevin Garnick, Chris Hegarty, Darren Garnick and George Austin.

My friend George had TWO Garciaparra jerseys lying around at home so he lent one to my brother Kevin and we had Nomar 1 and Nomar 2 battling it out for Iditarod glory.

Sox Ghosts in Action on the Streets of Boston.

Special thanks to the Whole Foods Market in Bedford, Mass., for lending our team a coveted shopping cart (race organizers don’t provide them) and donating a case of organic canned beans, bringing our team total to 70 pounds for the food bank. Also special thanks to the Lowell Spinners baseball team for loaning us their old Canaligator mascot head for the event.

Cereal Mascots — Reminiscent of the time that Warner Brothers and Disney Cartoons Co-Starred in “Who Framed Roger Rabbit?,” Kellogg’s Tony the Tiger Teams Up with the Trix Rabbit and Lucky Charms Leprechaun from General Mills.

I didn’t go crazy on the pub crawl component of the race, limiting myself to two beers. Much tougher to run on a beer-saturated stomach, although the younger guys in the race seemed to be unaffected.

Spy vs Spy — The Iditarod Organizers Channeling the Mad Magazine of my Youth!

For more colorful scenes from the Boston Urban Iditarod, check out this WBUR story on the race and my full photo gallery of the Sox Ghosts (with our competition) in action!

Ben Affleck wins the Best Picture Oscar for producing Argo.

If you are in desperate need of an inspirational quote this morning, here’s one from Matt Damon’s friend, Ben Affleck, whom the Hollywood writers say has now achieved “Redemption” for the sin of appearing in a few box office flops.

“It doesn’t matter how you get knocked down in life, ’cause that’s gonna happen. All that matters is you gotta get up.”   — Ben Affleck in his Academy Awards acceptance speech.

Sounds almost identical to daredevil Evel Knievel after breaking another set of assorted bones:

“You can fall many times in life, but you’re never a failure as long as you try to get up.” — Robert Knievel.

What I love about this Affleck photo, though, is the way he holds his Oscar like it’s exercise equipment or that he’s giving the raised fist power salute at the 1968 Olympics.  If I am ever so fortunate to earn another Emmy nomination or Tootsie Pop Clean Stick Award, I will also have my fists clenched and trophy thrust out like I am going into battle.

Spaceman Stereos

Strangely, I never knew the real origins of Bill Lee’s “Spaceman” nickname. But it’s the “cool guy” hat (reminiscent of Rudy from Fat Albert) and the turntable that make me smile.

Bill Lee has long been a media darling for saying what’s on his mind, demonstrated on this autographed baseball below:

Former Red Sox star Bill Lee sometimes autographs baseballs “Yankees Suck Pond H2O.”

I caught up with Lee recently for an Atlantic Magazine story on the waning Red Sox-Yankees T-Shirt War.

This quote from our conversation has nothing to do with stereo speakers or 1970s fashion, but it sums up life:

“Without rivalries, there is no game,” Lee adds. “You have to respect your opponent, but when your opponent is down, you must step on them and never let them get up. You want to make sure the enemy isn’t still breathing.”

Jordan Marsh, now part of Macy’s, had no idea the 1975 Red Sox would become American League Champions when they signed backup catcher Bob Montgomery as a spokesmodel. (Click to enlarge).

This was almost three decades before Johnny Damon, Jason Varitek and Tim Wakefield went on Queer Eye for the Straight Guy to makeover their wardrobes.

I love the 1970s — people took you seriously when you wore clothes like this.

Bob Montgomery is a classy guy, but I can’t imagine that the backup catcher was the first choice of Jordan Marsh or Haggar to walk the runway.

Carlton Fisk must have said “No way!”